


Ignite and Close Your Eyes

by HeyBoy, sirsable



Category: Fantastic Four, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: 5+1 Things, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Awkward Flirting, Dating, Flirting, Fluff, Identity Reveal, M/M, Marvel Rare Pair Bang 2019, Not Canon Compliant, Oblivious Peter Parker, Peter Parker is Spider-Man, Secret Identity, Secret Relationship, Stealth dating, The Fantastic Four aren't superheroes, kind of?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-21
Updated: 2020-03-21
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:27:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23238445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeyBoy/pseuds/HeyBoy, https://archiveofourown.org/users/sirsable/pseuds/sirsable
Summary: Peter Parker and Johnny Storm aren’t dating.…Right?(5 times Johnny dated Peter, and 1 time Peter dated him. Written for the Marvel Rare Pair Bang!)
Relationships: Peter Parker/Johnny Storm
Comments: 22
Kudos: 233
Collections: Marvel Rare Pair Bang 2019





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **This is an alternate universe** in which Johnny has no powers but Peter is still Spider-man, and they are close enough in age that they went to high school together. As such, it is **not compliant** to any particular comic-verse or movie concerning either Spider-man or the Human Torch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Marvel Rare Pair Bang got me to step out of my comfort zone, and while I admit it was kind of stressful writing people I’m not as familiar with, I gotta say that it was a lot of fun! Huge thanks to [HeyBoy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeyBoy/pseuds/HeyBoy) for drawing the amazing art that made me want to dip my toes in, and also for being a total saint even though I write super slowly and was constantly behind. Not only are they a wonderful artist, but a kind person. <3
> 
> Additional thanks to [Mizzy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mizzy) for character beta and putting up with my constant uncertainty, and [coldwinterrose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/coldwinterrose/pseuds/coldwinterrose) for making sure this thing got posted with way less typos and more clarity than it started with. You guys are awesome and I really couldn’t have done it without you.

  


  
  
Daredevil. Mechanic. Actor. Trendsetter. Johnny Storm has done it all, and he’s done it in style. He’s rapidly becoming one of America’s top celebrity crushes, with just the right combo of drama and bombastic personality but without the kind of scandal that would cause the public to turn on him. He’s vibrant, he’s loud, he’s flirty, he’s unabashedly pretty…

…And he’s a pain in Peter Parker’s side.

“What’s this?”

Peter nearly launches himself across a table to grab Johnny’s hand, yanking him away from the machine with bare millimeters to spare between his fingertips and the casing. “It’s a centrifuge and it’s _sensitive_ , so please don’t touch it because Shuri isn’t back for another two days and I’ll have to prep fresh samples by then so I’d really rather not—”

“Whoa, calm down, Pete.” Johnny raises his hands in surrender, backing away from the instrument with exaggerated, deliberate steps. “Don’t you know how to use the… the spinny thing?”

“I know how to use it, but it’ll only listen to Shuri if it needs to be recalibrated, unless I want to go bother the department chair. And I _don’t_.” He ignores Johnny’s deliberate attempt to provoke him by pretending not to remember what to call a centrifuge—the blond is thick-headed, not stupid.

“If it’s just sweet-talking, I can do that for you, sugar-lips.” Johnny finds room to lean over the table, weight braced on the flats of his arms so that he can look up at Peter through his dark lashes.

“Sugar-lips?” Peter frowns down at Johnny, refusing to give in to what the media calls ‘boyish charm.’ Boyish charm his ass.

Johnny rolls his shoulders in a lazy shrug. “It was the first thing that came to mind. Don’t like it? I can come up with something better.”

“No, that’s—”

“Stud. Tiger. Hot stuff.” Whatever expression Peter has on his face makes Johnny laugh—one of his real ones where his smiles so big his nose crinkles a little and…

Well, okay. Maybe he’s a _little_ bit charming.

“Wrong track, then. Pookie,” Johnny continues. “Schmoopy. Googly-bear.”

“Nope.” Peter grins and flips to a fresh page in his notebook, already scribbling a hodge-podge of notes and the tag-ends of equations for future-him.

Johnny’s voice lowers to a silky register not unlike the one he uses when selling expensive cologne on TV commercials. “All right. How about I call you darling? Honey? Sweetheart?”

It’s the tone, he tells himself. Anything would make him blush if said in that kind of voice, ~~especially~~ if it was said by Johnny Storm. He ducks his head and concentrates on his notes to try and hide the heat he can feel in his cheeks. He realizes too late that it’s a mistake to try, because 1) Johnny doesn’t like to be ignored, and 2) he can sense weakness when flirting the same way sharks sense blood in the water.

A grin starts to spread across Johnny’s face. “That did it, huh? Sweetheart?”

“I need to finish this tonight,” Peter says loudly, like simple volume will actually be able to make the blond stop. “I don’t have time for your games.”

Johnny rears back and places a hand over his heart, lips parting like he’s shocked. “Sweetheart, I’m _hurt_. You know I’d never play around with you. The rest of the world might see me as fast and easy, but I thought you of all people would know different. We were high school—well, sweethearts!”

“If by ‘sweethearts’ you mean ‘I tutored you in Chem so you didn’t fail,’” Peter mutters. It’s true that they used to hang out in high school, but Johnny always ran in different social circles, and he’d never made an effort to try and pull Peter into his world. Not that Peter asked—it felt like that would be taking advantage or something. But they’d met because their aunts had been in some kind of adoptive parent support group together, and Johnny had needed help to not fail out and Peter… well, he’s always been a little bit of a pushover. It helped that Johnny’s older sister, Susan, is smart and kind and pretty and always interested in what they boys were doing, and the family always fed him whenever he was over. So, yeah, maybe they were closer than casual acquaintances—maybe you could even say were friends—but it’s not like they ever went out or anything. And then right after, Johnny had joined some kind of stunt group and started being seen, while Peter had just… gone on being Peter.

“So I was just a project to you?” Johnny drops his hand and frowns, his shoulders going rigid. “A dumb jock to help out?”

“I—what? I never said that!” He berates himself while he tries to verbally backpedal, because that it’s what he meant at all, he never meant to imply that Johnny was stupid! Jesus, this is why he didn’t have friends in high school! “I didn’t mean—you’re not dumb! Lots of people failed out of Chem! Our school had a tough program, you know? And… and most people don’t use this stuff in the real world anyway! You did great in Algebra, that’s way more useful,” he rambles on. He can _feel_ himself losing thread of this conversation, and there’s a small voice in his head that sounds an awful lot like Shuri telling him to shut up while he’s ahead, but to his horror words keep spilling out of his mouth. 

“Physical fitness is really important, too. I mean, if you don’t have your health than what do you have, right? And you’re really fit, you know, you make a whole living off your body. Not that you sell your body or anything! No! I didn’t mean that!” He’s going to die. ‘Choked to death on his own word vomit,’ is what his obituary is going to say. “I’m trying to say you’re pretty, and fit, and people like that, and it’s cool that you’ve got that going for you because looks are just as much a genetic lottery as academic intelligence, so really we’re kind of the same in a different way.” He finally manages to stop himself by physically slapping his hand over his traitorous mouth, the ensuing silence broken only by the rumbling buzz of the centrifuge at work.

Suddenly, Johnny starts laughing. Not nervous laughter, like Peter might have done if the situation had been literally anything else, but genuine, amused laughter. He laughs so hard his face starts to turn red and he’s forced to slump into a chair just to keep from falling over.

“Oh my _God_ , Pete! I was messing with you! But then you—” He makes a high-pitched whining sound, like he can’t get enough air to breathe properly. “Oh, man, I know you better than that! And it’s not like I care that I’m not you or Reed Richards or Sue or something. ‘If you don’t have your health.’” He pretends to wipe away a tear while Peter gapes at him.

“You were messing with me?! You—I—!”

“You think I’m preeeeeetty,” Johnny sing-songs. “You like my boooooody.”

“Get out.” He stands up and rounds the table, yanking at Johnny’s arm. The blond gets out of the chair, still flush with laughter and grinning ear to ear. “Out, this is serious lab business only.”

“Nooo,” Johnny whines, even though he can’t stop smiling. “Our date isn’t over yet!”

“This isn’t a date.”

“It is! We met up somewhere, and we talked about our lives, and I bought you dinner!”

“You didn’t buy me dinner!”

“Oh, sweetheart, you think I’d show up to your work empty-handed? Let go, let go.” He bats Peter’s hands away and goes to grab his backpack, unzipping it and reaching inside for a paper bag. A delicious aroma wafts out of it. “I know you’re not supposed to eat in the lab, so I was keeping it warm until you had a break.”

Peter’s stomach reminds him that he only had half a bagel and coffee for breakfast. “Is that a meatball sub?”

“From Bianchi’s,” Johnny confirms. “Extra mozz, side salad, garlic bread. I was gonna grab some soda, but I took my bike and last time I tried something like that, it exploded. So,” he coaxes, “we’re gonna finish out our date, right? I promise I’ll leave after we eat.”

“…Fine.” Peter gives in reluctantly. He accepts the bag that Johnny thrusts at him and leads the way to the lounge. “How’d you know my order, anyway?”

“You’ve ordered the same thing since high school. And even if I hadn’t remembered, it’s just good manners to do some recon on what your date will like. Sue taught me _some_ things, you know.”

_It’s not a date,_ Peter wants to say. But he doesn’t push it, because Johnny will insist the more Peter protests, and despite everything else, he’s actually good company when he’s not being a low-grade jerk. He’ll get tired of the ‘date’ joke soon enough on his own.  
  


Art by [HeyBoy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeyBoy/pseuds/HeyBoy).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos, comments, questions, con-crit always welcome! I do ask that concrit be submitted to my tumblr (below) as an ask, please. <3
> 
> Come find us [@sablessx](https://sablessx.tumblr.com/) and [@HeyBoyDraws](https://heyboydraws.tumblr.com/) on tumblr!


	2. Chapter 2

Today has sucked.

He woke up late, found out there was no bread at all in his cupboards, burned his coffee, and to top it all off he found a hole in his suit when he went to put it on for tonight’s patrol. So while he doesn’t actually hope for crime, because that’s sort of a terrible thing to hope for, he _is_ looking for some way to vent his frustration. Maybe he should get a gym membership or something. Can Spider-man even _get_ a membership? It’s not like he has an ID, other than, you know, the suit.

So when he hears, “Everything you’ve got, or I’ll shoot,” he might be a little too enthusiastic about pivoting in mid-air to change course, clinging to a building and quickly calculating the best angle to come in at to avoid the victim getting shot.

Said victim is saying something in a soothing voice, hands up harmlessly, when the mugger snarls, “Shut up!” and Peter makes his move, one web snapping out to jerk the gun up and out of the way a moment before he dives in, putting himself between attacker and victim.

“Sorry to crash the party,” he greets brightly. The mugger looks like maybe he’s tweaking, and Spider-man’s sudden appearance certainly doesn’t help matters. It’s almost disappointing how easy he is to take down. Just a quick dodge of a too-slow punch, a gentle shove to overbalance the guy, and enough web to bind his hands and legs together. Then, when the guy starts cursing the air blue, Peter decides to be petty and stick a web gag on him as well. The webs taste pretty gross, and they feel even worse on the tongue. Not that he knows from experience or anything, because what scientist in his right mind would stick a newly-created and possibly volatile chemical substance in his mouth on purpose?

Okay, the answer is actually ‘most scientists he knows.’ Including himself.

Not the point.

“I was going to give him my wallet. It’s pretty much ‘Getting Mugged 101’.”

Peter finally turns to properly glance at the person he just saved, ready to tell them that just because they knew what to do doesn’t lessen the impact of violent crime. But as soon as he gets a good look at the other person, what comes out of his mouth is, “Johnny Storm?”

“Spider-man knows who I am. Cool.” Johnny grins and sticks his hands in his pockets, looking like he was just having a conversation with a friend instead of almost getting mugged.

The words hit Peter a second later, and he has a moment of panic where he thinks maybe he’s given away the game, letting on that he knows Johnny by name. He thinks fast and deepens his voice a little, then shrugs and tries to exude an aura of complete and utter nonchalance. “I think I passed one of your Rolex ads earlier.” Yes, good. Johnny’s name and face are getting out there, so it’s not too far-fetched that Spider-man would have heard of him, right?

“Didn’t know they put the models’ names on the ads,” Johnny says dryly, rocking back on his heels.

Shit. He needs a distraction. “You shouldn’t take your safety so lightly,” Peter says in his best ‘Captain-America-says-crime-is-bad’ voice. Hey, it worked on him in school. “Just because people know who you are doesn’t mean they won’t harm you.”

Johnny mutters under his breath, and it’s only because Peter’s hearing is literally superhuman that he hears him say, _“Do they, though?”_

It takes him aback, the biting, bitter words that he knows he wasn’t supposed to hear, and he fumbles for a follow-through to make it seem like he hadn’t heard at all.

“And just giving them your wallet—wait, you’ve been mugged before?”

“No.” Johnny shrugs one shoulder, still completely nonchalant. “But I used to live closer to the projects. Didn’t have enough to be worth mugging, but it doesn’t take a genius to know that you give the guy with the gun whatever he wants. It was policy at the shop I worked at, too.”

Peter’s stopped violent crimes before, and almost no one walks away this calmly. Hell, _Peter_ doesn’t walk away this calmly, and he knows he can literally dodge a bullet if he’s driven enough. Is Johnny really so much of an adrenaline junky that this doesn’t even faze him? Or maybe he’s still in shock? It’s hard to tell if he’s pale or not because of the crappy lighting—alleys in this part of the city aren’t exactly known for their effective lighting or general upkeep.

“If you want, I can walk you home,” he offers. “Or at least to your station.”

“Yeah? Is that part of Spider-man’s duties?”

“Is that a no?” He starts dragging the mugger out toward the street, which forces Johnny to follow. He’s not going to lie—it’s a pretty good feeling to have Johnny follow _his_ lead for once.

“It’s not a no,” Johnny tells him. “But what are we gonna do with this guy?”

“Oh, yeah. About that.” He makes a show of patting down his suit. “I seem to have left my phone at home, so… you think you could call the cops for me?”

Johnny sighs and fishes out his phone.  
  


* * *

  
  
It turns out there’s someone on the beat nearby, so it doesn’t take long for them to show up and take the perp off their hands. Depending on the officer, they get kind of preachy if Spider-man sticks around, so as soon as he hears the cruiser turning a corner, he takes off for the closest roof to wait. He peers over the side and watches as Johnny gives a statement and smiles and nods and signs a piece of paper for one of the officer’s kids. Peter can see him wave off what seems to be an offer to drive him home, but as soon as the cops are gone, Johnny’s shoulders slump and his brows pinch together like he’s in pain. Peter lets him have a moment, trailing him until he’s close enough to a fire escape that Peter can jump down with no problem. 

“You didn’t think I forgot, did you?” Johnny looks startled as Peter lands beside him with a little flourish. “I never forget a promise.”

“That you can remember,” Johnny says, mock-serious. Peter can’t help but notice that Johnny seems to be back to normal, his stance loose and easy, smile playing at the corners of his lips.

“That I—” Peter turns to walk backwards, crossing his arms over his chest and tapping his lip thoughtfully. “Huh. Wow. That’s a good point, actually.” 

“All my points are good points.”

“Except the ones that aren’t, right?” Peter teases. Johnny makes a face at him, but his eyes are smiling.

“No, even the ones that—look out!” Johnny’s hand shoots out and grabs Peter by the upper arm just as his boot catches on something on the ground, preventing him from falling backwards. Not that it would have injured much more than his pride, but still.

Peter stares up into bright blue eyes. Johnny is warm and close and smells a little like fresh toast, and Peter can feel himself start to blush underneath the mask. So, of course, he says the first thing that comes to mind:

“You’re shaking.”

Johnny lets him go instantly, shoving his hands back in his pockets in a way that’s totally not suspicious at all.

“That’s not really good first date conversation.” 

“Sorry. It’s—I mean, I kind of have foot-in-mouth syndrome. You know, open mouth—”

“Insert foot. My boyfriend says that, too.”

Huh. Peter hadn’t known that Johnny is attached. He doesn’t keep up with the tabloids or anything, but he was pretty sure that Johnny’s latest squeeze was a Victoria’s Secret model or something. He’s surprised to find that he’s kind of offended that Johnny told Spider-man, who’s basically a complete stranger, and not himself, who is an actual friend. This isn’t really the time to analyze the depth of their friendship, though.

“You didn’t answer the question.”

“Because there wasn’t one.” Johnny is obviously still trying to sweet-talk his way out of having to answer.

Okay, fine. “You’re shaking—are you sure you’re okay?” he asks more bluntly. “And don’t lie,” he adds quickly, before Johnny can open his mouth. “I’ll know. It’s one of my super powers. Like Santa Claus, only less seasonal.”

Johnny’s eyebrows go up. “Really?”

“Nah. But it’s not nice to lie to your friendly neighborhood Spider-man.”

“I’m fine.”

“I know you—” Peter has to stop himself before he can say ‘I know you well enough to know that’s a lie,’ because that would be a dead giveaway. Except now Johnny is giving him a weird look, so he recovers with, “I know you’re lying. Why pretend?”

Johnny seems to deflate all at once. “Actor, remember?” he says dryly. “Can’t stop, I guess. Got a rep, after all. I mean, what would people say if _you_ shook in your boots every time you stopped a robbery or something? How’d you even know?”

“Your hands are shaking. You keep putting them in your pockets, but when you grabbed me, I knew for sure. And I _do_ shake in my boots every time someone points a gun at me. Natural reaction, even for me. I just wait until the mask comes off.”

“Must be nice,” Johnny murmurs. Peter stops, partially because they’re at the back of Johnny’s building and partially because he doesn’t know what that comment was supposed to mean. But before he can ask, Johnny pulls out a key card.

“Well, thanks for the date. I had a nice time, aside from the getting mugged and talking to the police and the heavy conversation. Might want to work on that, by the way.” His trademark smile is firmly in place again, like the last hour hadn’t happened at all.

“That—this wasn’t a date,” Peter stammers. “I just—”

“We flirted, we talked about our jobs, you walked me home. Date.”

What the—“I thought you had a boyfriend!”

“Eh. He’d understand. Hard to pass up a date with Spider-man.” Johnny opens the door, poking his head inside to make sure the coast is clear. “Thanks for walking me home.”

“It wasn’t a date!” Peter calls. But the door is already swinging closed.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos, comments, questions, con-crit always welcome! I do ask that concrit be submitted to my tumblr (below) as an ask, please. <3
> 
> Come find us [@sablessx](https://sablessx.tumblr.com/) and [@HeyBoyDraws](https://heyboydraws.tumblr.com/) on tumblr!


	3. Chapter 3

Peter tries hard not to roll his eyes as Johnny saunters over, skin golden-tan and hair a sun-bleached gold. Somehow, no matter how much or how little sunblock he uses, Johnny Storm never burns; only bronzes naturally like a Greek god. He’d be envious if he cared enough, but Johnny’s never teased him for slathering himself in thick sunblock every one to two hours (as directed), and it’s hard to be too annoyed when Johnny’s the one paying for the beach trip in the first place—and the _house_ , no less, an entire rental property with a heated pool and hot tub and everything.

“Hey, Pete,” Johnny greets brightly. He’s holding an oversized novelty drink in one hand and a cup of plain ice in another, a straw poking out the side of his mouth while he chews obnoxiously on it. “Here.”

Peter rolls onto his side to accept what he assumes is a drink for himself, and then quickly turns his face away. He doesn’t bother to entertain the hope that maybe Johnny won’t notice how red his face is, because he can already feel himself blushing so hard that the tips of his ears burn. “Geeze, Storm, warn a guy before you stand in front of his face in your panties!”

Johnny just laughs and settles down on the blanket, carefully balancing the drink between them before dumping in the entire cup of ice. “Didn’t know you thought much about me in panties.”

“Where the hell is your swimsuit?”

Johnny gestures expansively to the not-so-expansive stretch of fabric that thankfully still covers the most lewd bits of his anatomy. “They’re called ‘boyshorts.’ Emphasis on _shorts_. I’m just as clothed as you.”

Considering that Peter is wearing an oversized white shirt and swimming trunks that do nothing good for his ass or legs, he seriously doubts it. “You’re shameless.”

“Nah, I got shame. Just not about this.” He stretches out, propping his head up with one hand to look at Peter thoughtfully. “They really bother you that much? Didn’t take you for the type to judge.”

“It’s not that they bother me,” Peter mutters. Because they don’t. It’s just that he wasn’t expecting to get a front-row view of Johnny Storm’s assets, as it were, and certainly not in such a flattering color. “You can wear whatever you want. They look good on you.”

“Aw, you’ll make me blush,” says definitely the most shameless man on the face of the planet. “Besides, this one’s modest compared to some of the ones I was looking at. This was the only one Sue said she wouldn’t disown me for.”

Peter hopes to God there’s alcohol in this drink, because imagining Johnny in even less fabric is _doing things_ to him, and he’s not sure he can handle that sober. He’d had a crush on Johnny in high school—just like the entire female and probably half the male population—and a healthy imagination. Johnny is attractive and generous and kind when he wants to be, and also has an extensive history of one-night stands and week-long failed relationships with dozens of people that are so far from Peter’s league that they might as well be on a different planet. Long story short: thinking of Johnny Storm in his underwear is more or less a wasted effort, considering that it will never happen.

“What happened to the game?” Peter asks instead. The drink does indeed have alcohol in it, although it’s so incredibly diluted that he can barely taste it. But it’s cold, and it’s probably more hydrating than not. And, best of all, it’s free. 

“It’s still going,” Johnny tells him flippantly, “but I wanted to see what _you_ were up to.”

“Just boring old me,” he drawls. Johnny sticks his own straw into the drink and takes a long sip, then pulls a face. Peter smirks.

“You’re not boring,” Johnny says, glaring at the drink accusingly. After a moment, he seems to decide he’d rather drink it than not. His next words are muffled around a straw. “You just have boring hobbies.”

Peter thinks of this morning, when he was swinging between the skyscrapers in Manhattan. He wonders if Johnny would still think his hobbies were boring, if he knew. Knowing Johnny, probably. Which reminds him…

“Hey, Johnny. Are you… you know, happy?” He tries not to look directly at his friend because he knows that sometimes, being honest is hard when you know there’s someone else there to witness it. And he wants honesty.

“Sure,” Johnny says easily, with a mild smile that, somehow, Peter never noticed was fake until now. He’s known Johnny going on ten years and he’s just now noticed? What the hell kind of friend is he? Does anyone else know? They have to, right? Susan, at the very least.

“You’re lying,” Peter says bluntly. “Why?”

The smile drops off Johnny’s face, replaced instead with a rueful, almost bittersweet expression. “I’m not _un_ happy,” he deflects.

“But you’re less happy than you let on.”

“You and Sue. I keep forgetting that just because you’re book-smart doesn’t mean you’re people-dumb.”

“Answer the question.”

Johnny sighs. “Look: I love being the center of attention. I love the spotlight, and I _really_ love the way people look at me. It’s just that sometimes, I suddenly think, ‘Holy shit, Johnny, yesterday you lived two blocks from the projects and now you’ve got an apartment with rent that could have fed you for a month!’ And it’s… weird, I guess. Sometimes something happens and I realize that the only people I can really count on are my family, you know? Not all the time. Just. Sometimes.”

“Huh.” Peter takes another sip of the disappointing cocktail. If he thinks about it hard enough, he guesses that having to be ‘on’ all the time must get tiring even for someone as suited for the limelight as Johnny Storm. “I just always thought you thrived on it.”

“I do,” Johnny says easily. “Why? Can’t I be both?”

“No, you can. I just… didn’t think about it. Sorry.”

“See? I’ve got. You know. Dimension.” Johnny pokes him with his straw playfully, which makes him jump in surprise and Johnny laugh.

“Yeah, yeah. You’re multidimensional. Next, we’re going to have to start labeling all the facets of you. One through one thousand.”

“You know, Reed’s got a theory on that. Lots of different worlds or something. I stopped listening about a minute in, though. Guy doesn’t know when to shut up.”

Peter doesn’t say that he thinks that sounds fascinating. Maybe he’ll meet the guy someday.

“You’ve got that look.”

“What look?” he asks defensively.

“The way I look when I think about a really good pizza. You wanna talk about the worlds thing, don’t you? Or just meet the guy, right? I think he’s geek-famous. That’s what Sue said, anyway. Reed Richards?”

“ _Reed Richards?!_ ”

“Wow, I guess he really is geek-famous.”

Peter struggles to pick his jaw up off the ground. He takes another sip of the drink just to give himself something to do, and realizes almost immediately that he’s picked the wrong straw, because it’s misshapen and jagged and _terrible_. Johnny, of course, laughs when Peter spits it out into the sand.

“God, that’s disgusting, Storm. How do even drink like that? The shape is—”

“If I invite you over for dinner next week, will you spare me the lecture on hydro-whatever-you’re-about-to-say?” Johnny interrupts. “Doctor Boring will be there. You could be my plus-one,” he wheedles.

Shuri will be so jealous. “Sure, fine.”

Johnny beams, completely and uncomplicatedly happy. The way, Peter thinks to himself, he should be.

“It’s a date, then! Well, another one.”

Peter resists the urge to sigh. “When was the last one?”

“The one we’re on right now!”

“We’re not on a date! There must be at least two dozen people here.”

“I’m spending time with you instead of my friends, we swapped spit, and I even invited you to meet the family. It’s a date.”

“Wh—” Peter gives in and sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Don’t you have a boyfriend already? Or a girlfriend?”

“Yeah. You.”

Fine, if Johnny wants to keep teasing, Peter will let him. It’s not like that’s anything new, anyway, and Johnny’s never been mean about any of his teasing. Just annoying. “Sure, if you say so,” he humors tiredly.

Johnny looks pleased, like he’s won something. “Dinner’s at Sue’s place. I’ll text you the address later. And Pete?”

“Yeah?”

“Please don’t do anything weird like ask him to sign your dissertation or something.”

“Of course not,” says the world’s worst liar, who was definitely not already wondering which issue of _Science Magazine_ he wanted to bring with him. “I’ll be cool.”

“You’re blushing,” Johnny laughs. “You were totally going to do it!”

“I’m not blushing! It’s the sun!” he protests. And yeah, maybe he really is blushing, and maybe their yelling is starting to attract some attention, but seeing Johnny laugh like that makes him think that maybe a little bit of embarrassment is worth it.  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos, comments, questions, con-crit always welcome! I do ask that concrit be submitted to my tumblr (below) as an ask, please. <3
> 
> Come find us [@sablessx](https://sablessx.tumblr.com/) and [@HeyBoyDraws](https://heyboydraws.tumblr.com/) on tumblr!


	4. Chapter 4

It’s actually pretty peaceful tonight.

Well, New York is never _really_ peaceful—a city holding this many people can’t be—but considering that no one is currently robbing any banks or trying to end the world as they know it, Peter thinks it’s practically serene. His patrol even wrapped up early, which is always a pleasant surprise. He kicks his heels idly against the concrete of the roof he’s sitting on, considering that maybe he should pick up some stuff on the way home, this saving him the trouble later in the afternoon. Or maybe—and this is a novel idea—he could go to bed before the sun comes up.

“So, what’s a bug like you doing in a place like this?”

Peter startles but doesn’t lose his balance, because no matter how clumsy he is when he’s being Peter Parker, Spider-man rarely falls when he doesn’t want to. What annoys him is the fact that he let his guard down enough that someone could startle him at all. Then the speaker shifts so that the light of the streetlamps hit him and—well, at least that explains how he managed to sneak up on Spider-man. Johnny Storm might be kind of a jerk sometimes, but Peter has never registered him as a threat and, apparently, neither do his enhanced instincts.

“Spiders aren’t bugs, they’re arachnids,” Peter corrects automatically, and immediately blushes under the mask. Spider-man is supposed to be cool, but five seconds in Johnny’s presence and he’s a complete nerd again.

“You sound like my guy, Peter,” Johnny retorts, although he also sounds fond. “I guess you’d know, though, being one and all. Actually, I never thought about this, but then TMZ did an article—are you a spider dressed up as a man, or a spider-human hybrid like _The Fly_ , or just a dude who _really_ likes spiders?”

How did this conversation spin out of control so quickly? “Uh… none of those?” he squeaks. _Squeaks._ Spider-man doesn’t _squeak_. Except that one time, but he’d just been electrocuted, thanks very much. “I’ve got spider… powers.” Jesus, it sounds so lame when he puts it like that.

“So, no extra eyes under there or anything?” Johnny stops just short of tapping on Peter’s mask, but Peter realizes that they’re so close he can smell Johnny’s cologne and _when did that happen_?

“Um. No extra eyes.” How long can spiders go without air?! He might find out soon, because he’s not really sure he’s breathing when Johnny leans in even more. By now, he’s so close that Peter can count his eyelashes when Johnny flutters them appealingly.

“Weird body hair?”

“I think I have… the normal amount of body hair?” The intensity of Johnny’s gaze, combined with the warmth radiating from his body, charges the air between them until it’s thick with potential.

“Extra arms? Legs? Fingers?”

“Nope, just the six—no! Five!” He holds his hands up and wiggles his _ten_ fingers—Christ, Parker, get it together—the normal five on each hand.

“Hm.” Johnny makes a soft noise that sounds kind of like he’s laughing to himself. “Eat bugs or something?”

“Not… usually? I ate some mealworms once for science class.” He doesn’t add that they were actually pretty good.

“But normal human food otherwise, right?”

“Um… yes?” He probably shouldn’t have made that one a question.

Johnny blinks and backs off, and the tension between them snaps. “You like tacos?”

“I love tacos!” Peter enthuses, just a touch too loudly. He cringes internally. What is it about Johnny that makes him lose his cool, even when he’s Spider-man?

“Awesome, because they’re downstairs getting cold. You coming?”  
  


* * *

  
  
He isn’t sure how Johnny even gets him to agree to eating with him. He just knows that one minute he’s protesting that he couldn’t possibly, and the next he’s walking into Johnny’s open-plan kitchen and sitting down at a table already set for two.

“Do you always set up an extra plate?” he asks curiously. He should probably wash his hands or something, but he makes it a policy not to leave fingerprints that could be traced back to him. Oh well. He’ll just try really hard not to think about all the buildings he’s climbed and fire escapes he’s touched today.

“Nah. I was going to ask my boyfriend over, but then he had to work late. Didn’t want to make him feel bad if he couldn’t make it, so…” Johnny shrugs one shoulder as he opens up a container of warmed tortillas. They’re Peter’s favorite, from a little Mexican corner store about two stops from his old place, and they smell absolutely divine. Any protests he might have been lining up vanish instantly at the sight of them.

“His loss,” Peter says seriously. “These are probably the best tortillas in the city.” He yanks up the bottom half of his mask so he can shove one in his mouth, ripping it in half before going for the rice. “Do you happen to have any apples?” When that’s only met with silence on Johnny’s end, Peter looks up questioningly. “Something wrong?”

The blond has paused with his taco halfway to his mouth, which is still gaping open in preparation of taking what was probably going to be a monstrously large bite. A few kernels of corn escape their confines and plop onto Johnny’s plate. He doesn’t put his food down, but he does straighten up. “You always eat ‘em that way?”

“You’ve got pork here,” Peter says defensively. “It makes sense.”

Johnny hums a vague assent, staring at him unnervingly. No, not at him, _through_ him. Was it really that weird a request? Pork and apples, right? Would it have been better if he’d asked for pineapple, like a Hawaiian fusion type of thing?

“Forget I asked,” Peter mutters, slapping down another tortilla and redistributing ingredients to form the perfect filling-to-toppings ratios.

“I’ve got apples,” Johnny says suddenly, looking like he’s just come to. “Sorry, I’ll go get one. Granny Smith okay?”

“Perfect,” Peter calls back. “Thanks.”

“So I’m planning to go rappelling next week,” Johnny says conversationally as he sets the bowl of diced apple on Peter’s side of the table. He wrinkles his nose when Peter sprinkles some on his taco, but Peter knows for a fact that Johnny will eat pineapples on his pizza, so he has absolutely no room to judge. Johnny seems to shake off his own morbid fascination when Peter crams a bite into his mouth and resumes his thread. “I figured you’d be the expert on crawling down steep surfaces. Any tips?”

“Mmh?” Peter swallows hastily. “Um. Don’t fall?”

Johnny bursts into laughter so suddenly that for a moment, Peter is afraid he’s going to choke on his food.

“I needed that,” Johnny gasps, finally getting himself under control, and Peter figures he doesn’t mean his crappy advice. “Thank you.”

Peter shrugs, hiding his own smile by taking another bite. “Just doing my job,” he mumbles around his mouthful. But, somehow, dinner flows so much easier from there.

As much as he enjoys the food —and the company— he know that he shouldn’t stay for long. It’s probably bad superhero etiquette to eat and run, though, and he was raised better than that. He ends up compromising by declining dessert and offering to help wash dishes.

“So is that a superhero thing, too?” Johnny asks, lips quirking with amusement. “Fighting bad guys, helping old ladies across the street, great conversation, washing dishes after dinner…”

“Personally, I hope everyone washes their dishes after dinner,” Peter snarks, gesturing for Johnny to move over.

“Are your hands even clean?” Johnny demands. He looks skeptically at Peter’s gloves, which… okay, that’s a fair point. And he doesn’t really fancy swinging home with his hands soaking wet, either. Been there, done that, dealt with the chafing.

“I can dry,” Peter decides. He looks at the drawers, trying to guess if Johnny is the kind of person who keeps his dish towels in the kitchen or the linen closet. Just as he’s decided that the drawers are the best bet, Johnny hip-checks him none-too-gently. “Hey!”

“Don’t you have a city to save or something?” His voice is s study in careful nonchalance, but when Peter looks, he’s grinning playfully. Teasing him. Again.

“Well, I _was_ patrolling until some actor-slash-model—”

“—slash daredevil—”

“—interrupted me.” He doesn’t mention about the guy he ran into a few weeks ago who actually called himself ‘Daredevil.’ They’d gotten into an argument and, long story short, Peter is only to be in the West Side if invited or if already in pursuit. There’s a lot more to hero politics than Peter would have thought. Still, Johnny does have a point. He can take the long way home and do the last leg of his patrol that way. “Thanks for dinner.”

“Not a problem. You’re welcome to come by any time you want. I’ve usually got something to eat around here, even if it’s just protein shakes.”

“Wouldn’t that be kind of awkward?”

Johnny puts a plate down on the rack and raises a quizzical eyebrow.

“If I was… I don’t know, hanging out or whatever, and your boyfriend came by?”

Johnny snorts and starts scrubbing at another plate. He’s talking softer than the hiss of water from the sink, but Peter thinks he hears him say something like ‘doubt that’s going to be a problem.’ “He’s a good guy,” he says more loudly. “Probably won’t even flinch when I tell him Spider-man came by for a date.”

Sweet Jesus, is Spider-man about to become a homewrecker? “This wasn’t a date! It was just—”

“I cooked dinner for us and we ate it over a candlelit table,” Johnny says, waving a sudsy hand in the general direction of the table.

Peter looks over and—dammit, he sees them now, little tea lights he barely noticed because they’re in some of those colorful glass holders. He recognizes them from dinner at Sue’s place, actually, and he wonders if they were furnished by Sue or if the siblings just shop in the same places.

“Don’t sweat it,” Johnny advises, apparently able to sense Spider-man’s distress despite lack of facial cues. “Like I said, he’s the forgiving type, and it’s not like you and I messed around or anything. I’m perfectly capable of going on platonic dates. Do it all the time with coworkers.” He racks the last plate and dries his hands on a towel, flipping it over his shoulder when he’s done. He looks like a model for _Home Living_ or something, with his sleeves pushed up and his dark jeans striking a contrast against the white cabinets under the sink. “He really puts up with a _lot_ of shit from me.”

“Sounds like he loves you a lot.”

Johnny’s eyes light up. “You think so?”

“I mean, I don’t know this person, but I’m pretty sure love is putting up with someone else’s shit and still wanting to be around them anyway. It’s pretty cool that you have that.”

Is Johnny Storm _blushing_ right now? He doesn’t look shy or embarrassed, but his cheeks are definitely pinker than a moment ago. “We’ve known each other since high school, I’m a pretty lucky guy.”

A slightly awkward silence falls over them, and Peter clears his throat. “Well, I’d… better go.”

“Oh, shit. Sorry I kept you so long.” Johnny grabs his keys off the counter and escorts Peter back up to the roof access.

Peter does, indeed, take the long way home. He doesn’t find anything amiss, and he figures that missing the extra hour or so of sleep was worth it to go to bed feeling sated for once. He strips out of his suit and takes a quick shower before hitting the sack. As he stares up at the ceiling, waiting for sleep to take him, he wonders who from their high school Johnny has kept up with enough to feel comfortable dating now.  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos, comments, questions, con-crit always welcome! I do ask that concrit be submitted to my tumblr (below) as an ask, please. <3
> 
> Come find us [@sablessx](https://sablessx.tumblr.com/) and [@HeyBoyDraws](https://heyboydraws.tumblr.com/) on tumblr!


	5. Chapter 5

“I haven’t been here since I was a kid,” Peter says, looking around with no small amount of nostalgia. Everything is merrily lit, rides are blaring music; and maybe the park looks different now, but it’s still basically Coney Island. 

“Not true,” Johnny contradicts easily, hands in pockets. “Like, half the class went on Senior Skip Day.”

Wow, he’d forgotten about that. 

“How do you even know that I went?” He’d been a geek in high school—not that he isn’t now—and the majority of his friends had gone to class like normal, either because they didn’t want to miss classes they’d enjoyed or because they were too strait-laced to take an unnecessary absence. Peter had gone because May encouraged it, saying that he only got one senior year.

“Because I pay attention?” Johnny quirks an eyebrow at him. “I remember you were feeding the breading off a corn dog to some seagulls. Even though the signs said not to.” He grins and nudges Peter hard with one elbow. “Troublemaker.”

“I can’t decide if it’s cute or creepy that you remember something like that,” Peter grumbles, rubbing his side.

“Cute,” Johnny decides for him. “I’m always cute.”

“You’re hot,” Peter corrects, brain apparently not currently engaged with his mouth. “Not cute.”

And then he regrets the words immediately when Johnny’s face lights up with smug, unholy glee.

“Johnny, no—”

“You think I’m _hot_!” he crows.

“I didn’t—”

“You think I’m _sexy_!”

“Please, people are staring!”

“You have a crush on me,” Johnny sing-songs with only moderately less volume. He reaches out and hooks one of his fingers through Peter’s belt loops, tugging playfully.

Peter can feel his face turning as red as his suit. “So what if I do?” he challenges. He expects Johnny to drop the teasing, or say something typically dismissive, or maybe even let him down easy in that nice way he has. Instead, Johnny’s expression goes soft.

“I know. I’ve got a crush on you too, Parker.”

Peter’s jaw drops, dumbfounded. He doesn’t even put up a token resistance when Johnny loops their arms together and tugs him closer, continuing their walk.

“Kind of a weird thing to say this far in, though,” Johnny adds off-handedly, like he didn’t just drop the social equivalent of a nuclear warhead into Peter’s lap. What does he do with that information? He’s too stunned to even know where to start. Johnny grabs his hand, oblivious to the havoc he’s wrought, and tugs them both over to a stall. “Hey, let’s get hot dogs.”  
  


* * *

  
  
Two hot dogs, a boat of fries, and three carnival games later, Peter is still reeling, but at least now he’s reeling on a full stomach and with a giant stuffed shark in tow. What he’s going to do with said shark is a mystery, but Johnny had presented it to him with such a bright smile that Peter couldn’t bring himself to muster a single sarcastic remark. They’ve meandered down the boardwalk, shared food, Johnny determinedly won him a useless prize presumably with the sole purpose of showcasing his skill at throwing things… 

Could they _actually_ be on a date? No. No way.

Right?

He’s still trying to figure out how to ask if they’re on a date without sounding either cocky or stupid, when he hears a feminine voice calling Johnny’s name. 

“Oh! And Peter, too!” Susan Storm swoops in, giving a quick hug to her brother and a peck on the cheek to Peter. He blushes for no reason at all—well, maybe because he had a crush on her in high school; the Storms are attractive, so sue him—and greets her warmly back.

“Sorry to interrupt, but have either of you seen Reed?” she asks, eyes still scanning the crowd. “I swear, sometimes he’s like a toddler. If he sees something interesting he just walks off.”

“Dr. Richards?” Peter echoes, at the same time Johnny says, “Dr. Dork?”

Susan glares at her brother, then turns to Peter with a much more pleasant expression. “Yes. He was supposed to be getting us popcorn, and that was more than thirty minutes ago. I was going to try the ring toss next—he kept muttering how it was just physics, and if they’d let him measure the lip of the bottles, he could do it within fifty.”

“Well, it _is_ just physics,” Peter says hesitantly.

“Oh, I know,” Sue assures him. Out of the corner of his eye, Peter can see Johnny becoming very obviously bored of the conversation. “But there’s also the physical dexterity aspect of it. Just because you can calculate a trajectory doesn’t mean you can execute mechanically.”

“He’d only need a moderate amount of coordination to—”

Johnny clears his throat loudly, drawing their attention back to him and making Peter blush. Sue has no such compunctions, though. She just rolls her eyes at her brother’s bid for attention, then very obviously turns back to Peter. He never understands why they do things like this sometimes. He gathers that it’s a sibling thing, but since he’s an only child, he doesn’t get the loving glee they derive from driving each other up the wall.

“Are you coming to LA with us?” she asks sweetly, while Johnny crosses his arms and huffs in the background.

This is getting more awkward by the minute, and for once it’s not Peter’s fault. “Uh. LA? Like Los Angeles?”

Sue rounds on Johnny again. “You didn’t ask him yet?” she demands.

“I was _going_ to,” Johnny says with exaggerated patience. “Until _someone_ came and crashed our date.”

“Next month,” she tells Peter. “Johnny has an audition in LA and there’s a bioengineering conference Reed wants to go to, so we’re making a vacation of it. I know you’re busy with your research, but if you want to come, we’ve already paid for hotel rooms and we’re more than happy to cover your plane ticket. Reed might be able to get another invitation to the conference if that’s something you’d like.”

“Oh, wow. That’s… a lot. I wouldn’t want to put you out,” he stammers. Airfare alone is at least three hundred dollars, not to mention whatever a hotel in a large city would cost. Letting Johnny pay for a weekend at the beach is one thing, but this is a whole other beast.

Sue reaches out and pats his arm, smiling. “Don’t be shy. You’re practically family at this point.”

“Being shy is one of his charms,” Johnny interjects smoothly, looping one arm around Peter’s waist like he’s jealous that his sister touched him and he didn’t. “He blushes a lot and it’s adorable.”

Peter blushes, which makes the siblings flash him almost identical grins. 

“I’m kind of jealous. I don’t think Reed knows what shame is,” Sue laughs.

“And speak of the devil.” Johnny nods his head over Sue’s shoulder, and her expression morphs into one of exasperated fondness when she spots her fiancé holding not only a tub of popcorn, but a stuffed bear and a bag of cotton candy. He looks immensely pleased with himself.

“See? No shame.” She shakes her head, already turning towards Reed. “I’ll see you two later.”

“Use protection!” Johnny calls loudly. Sue flips him off without even looking. “Well, now that she’s done crashing _our_ date with _her_ date…” He resumes their stroll, tugging Peter along easily while Peter himself resumes his small internal crisis at the word ‘date.’ “I really wanted to get on the Thunderbolt. Maybe the line’s gone down.”

“Was Susan serious about the LA thing?” Peter asks, still letting himself be led.

“Yeah. I was going to ask you tonight,” Johnny grumbles. “You should come with us. Be my good-luck charm.”

Friends can be each other’s lucky charms, right? That’s a totally normal thing to say. Except… Peter is well aware that Johnny would normally take whatever pretty thing was hanging off his arm that week, or use the fact that he has a hotel room to himself to pick someone up when he gets there. LA is probably full of pretty people who wouldn’t mind getting personal with Johnny Storm. So why invite his high school friend along?

“Are we dating?” he blurts out.

“What?” Johnny laughs like Peter’s said something genuinely funny. “Of course!”

“What?!”

“Cute.” But then Johnny’s laugh dims and he cocks his head to the side, giving Peter an odd look. “You’re serious?”

“Yes, I’m serious!” What the hell? _What the hell?!_ “How long have we been dating?!”

Johnny shrugs. “This time around? Maybe three months?”

 _“This time around?!”_ Peter yelps. It must be too loud, though, because he can see people shooting them curious looks. He grabs Johnny by the arm and hauls him out of the way of foot traffic. “What do you mean, ‘this time around’? As opposed to what other times?!”

“You mean other than that month or two in high school?” Johnny shrugs. “I don’t know. Don’t really keep count.”

They’ve been _dating_?! Since _high school_?! Why is he always the last to know these kinds of things? Wait, no, not the point.

“Have you been stealth-dating me? Since high school?” How do these things even happen to him?

“I didn’t think I was stealthy. I know for a fact I told you every time I asked you out on a date.” At his incredulous look, Johnny sighs and starts ticking off an invisible list. “There was the beach house, I brought you to dinner at Sue’s place, the photoshoot two weeks ago, that horror movie we saw, and I can’t even count the number of times I’ve dropped by your lab so we could have lunch. And today.”

“What about the other people?” Peter asks weakly. When he thinks about it, Johnny is right; he _had_ told Peter they were going out on dates, or that they were already on one. He thought, maybe friend dates, or Johnny was joking or something. It never felt much different from other times they’d hung out together.

…Wait. Had those all been dates, too?

“I mean, we’ve been on-again, off-again,” Johnny is saying with a shrug. “Or casual, if you wanna put a label on things. I didn’t think that bothered you,” he adds, looking concerned for the first time.

“It doesn’t,” Peter says faintly. “I just…” If he says he didn’t know, or if he says he hasn’t been dating Johnny, he knows it’ll crush his friend (boyfriend?). And it isn’t like he’s not attracted to him, or like he would mind dating. “You never asked me out,” he manages.

That restores Johnny’s grin. “Kind of high school, isn’t it? Okay.” He reaches out and takes one of Peter’s hands, cradling it in both of his, and turns on his most earnest, aw-shucks look on him. “Peter Parker, would you do me the honor of going steady with me?”

What the hell is he supposed to say? Apparently, they’ve been dating this whole time already. And if he’s being honest with himself, Johnny really has made him feel comfortable and special. All the little things start clicking into place—how Johnny remembers his favorite restaurants, how he always pouts when Peter refuses to go to clubs, the tight hugs and walking him home. They’ve even kissed, he realizes, but it had been chaste and Peter had chalked it up as platonic. Just Johnny being Johnny. Jesus Christ, he’s dense.

“Um… yes?” he squeaks.

Johnny drops his exaggerated expression and gives Peter one of those small, tucked-in smiles that Peter is just now realizing might only be for him. “Awesome. I’m gonna kiss you now,” he declares. He grips Peter’s chin lightly and tilts his head, slotting their lips together and _wow_ , he’s _kissing Johnny Storm._

And _this_ kiss? Definitely not platonic.  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos, comments, questions, con-crit always welcome! I do ask that concrit be submitted to my tumblr (below) as an ask, please. <3
> 
> Come find us [@sablessx](https://sablessx.tumblr.com/) and [@HeyBoyDraws](https://heyboydraws.tumblr.com/) on tumblr!


	6. +1

Peter paces the rooftop, back and forth; back and forth. This was a terrible idea. Johnny is going to hate it. Or make fun of him. Would it have been better to just spring it on him? Maybe stage something suitably heroic, like rescuing him and then sharing a passionate, I-almost-died-and-thank-you-Spider-man kiss in the rain. He considers it for a moment—he can imagine it pretty easily because Johnny is, in general, the kind of person who might thank a superhero with a kiss. But the thought makes him kind of jealous because they’re supposed to be _dating_ , dammit. And then he feels ridiculous a moment later because he just got jealous of himself. Not even actually himself; just an imaginary version of him.

“Idiot,” he says aloud, moving to grip his hair before he remembers that he’s got the damn mask on. “Stupid. I shouldn’t be allowed to have ideas.”

He’s so busy berating himself, second-guessing what he was convinced a week ago was a great and romantic plan, that he misses the sound of footsteps in the stairwell. It’s impossible to miss the door opening, though, or the way Johnny’s already chuckling as he steps through, closing the door carefully and double-checking that the brick to hold it open is in place.

“Talking to yourself again, P—” He looks up from where he’d been positioning the impromptu doorstop and trails off. “—er. Uh. Spider-man.” A series of complicated emotions flickers across his face, too fast for Peter to fully interpret. Then he looks at the rest of the roof and raises an eyebrow in a silent question.

Peter looks, too, trying to see it from Johnny’s perspective. He’s got two lawn chairs set up on either side of a folding card table that he’s draped with a decent-looking tablecloth. Votive candles in little red holders, a bottle of wine already open and resting, food covers keeping their plates warm. He picked this building because it has a rooftop garden so he thought it would be more romantic, but he’s realizing now that he’s gone way past that and straight into B-list rom-com territory. 

“I, um…” Peter makes a weird flailing gesture that he has never in his life used up until now, because that will definitely make him look more rational.

“If you’re here to hit on me, I got bad news for you: I signed an exclusivity contract with my current boyfriend.” Johnny’s body language screams his amusement at the whole situation, open and flirtatious and teasing. “Case in point, I’m supposed to be meeting him here tonight. He’s a total dork, so all this,” Johnny gestures expansively to the ridiculous set-up, “is probably him.”

“About that—”

“I mean, is it over-the-top? For him, yes.”

Peter can feel himself blushing.

“Is this kind of thing why I’m dating him? Partially.”

Peter makes a strangled kind of noise that he sincerely hopes Johnny doesn’t hear.

“Is he probably going to propose to me? I think so.”

“Wait, _what_?!”

Johnny gestures expansively to the rooftop. “Table for two, secret garden, romantic lighting, I’m betting some of my favorite food is under there… Classic set-up for a proposal, right? I mean, I’m not a traditionalist myself, but Peter’s got this romantic streak. He’s probably got speakers stashed somewhere to play music. So, while it’s cool to see you again and everything, this is probably going to get personal kind of fast and you might want to—”

“I don’t think it’s a proposal,” Peter says, way too loudly because he’s been rendered momentarily incapable of self-moderating his volume, apparently.

“What makes you say that?” Johnny’s eyes are wide and innocent, and Peter is pretty sure he’s being played but he doesn’t quite know how, yet. “Do you… know him? Maybe he sent you?” Johnny presses.

Right. The entire point of this operation. The reason they’re here. The reason that Peter dragged all this stuff to a rooftop and then swung across a borough and a half while carefully balancing four containers full of food so nothing would get cold.

“About that. Him.”

“Who? My boyfriend?”

Peter swallows hard, partly because this is more difficult than he expected, and partly because it’s still kind of a jolt to hear Johnny refer to him as his boyfriend and know that he means it. “Yeah. About Peter Parker. He… needs to tell you something. I mean.” He exhales slowly, bracing himself. “ _I_ need to tell you something. About… about him.” This is it. He just has to pull this off and say, ‘I’m actually Spider-man,’ and… Well, he doesn’t know what comes after that. He’s never told anyone before. Has never wanted to until now. He exhales slowly and reaches for his mask.

Johnny’s strong hands grip his wrists lightly; just enough force to tell him to stop. When Peter looks up, the blond’s expression is, for once, completely serious.

“You don’t have to do this, you know,” Johnny tells him quietly. Like it’s a secret. Like someone might be able to overhear, even though it’s just the two of them up here. “You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to.”

He pauses. Takes the time to look—really _look_ —at Johnny Storm. And, sure, he’s a lot of things—cocky, brash, capricious—but what he isn’t, is _dumb_. The people he loves, he loves with everything he has. Peter thinks of all the little things; the food and the dates and the easy way his body language shifts to accommodate Peter when he’s near, making room for him without question.

He’s doing it right now.

“You know what I’m going to say, don’t you?” Peter asks slowly.

Johnny, for once, is the first to look away. “Maybe. But I mean it when I say I won’t make you do this. This is a secret I think I can be okay with.”

“That means a lot to me.” It’s easy, suddenly, almost not a choice at all, but an inevitable conclusion. He pulls off his mask, shoving one hand through his hair to try and fluff it back up. “How long have you known?”

“I didn’t know for sure, but I suspected,” Johnny admits, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “Not a lot of people who want apples on their tacos.”

“Just the pork ones,” he defends half-heartedly. That incident had been months ago by now, and Johnny never said a word. “At least I know you’ll keep my secret.”

“Kind of the point of a secret identity.” Johnny offers him a lopsided grin. “And thanks for telling me officially. I, uh—I know I don’t do sappy stuff really well, but it means a lot to know that you trust me. So. Thanks.”

There’s an awkward pause while they smile at each other like a pair of idiots, and then Johnny claps his hands loudly and rubs them together. “So! You brought food?”

“Oh, yeah!” Peter nods profusely, gratefully taking the out. “I made most of it, but I swung by that one bakery to get some cake. Not literally. I went on my way home.” He pulls Johnny’s seat out for him with a flourish, and Johnny rolls his eyes at the gesture but sits down nonetheless.

It isn’t until they’re most of the way through their meal that Peter remembers:

“You know I’m not proposing to you tonight, right?”

Johnny appraises him for a long moment. “Meaning, you _are_ going to propose to me, just not tonight.”

Peter chokes on his wine, spraying it all over his plate while he stammers out vague deflections that somehow involve his dissertation, the housing bubble, and global warming. He’s red with embarrassment by the end of it, and Johnny laughs so hard that he cries.

And the worst part is? 

Ten months later, it turns out Johnny was right.  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for sticking with the story for this long! <3 As always, kudos, comments, questions, con-crit always welcome! I do ask that concrit be submitted to my tumblr (below) as an ask, please. <3
> 
> Come find us [@sablessx](https://sablessx.tumblr.com/) and [@HeyBoyDraws](https://heyboydraws.tumblr.com/) on tumblr!


End file.
